Escape from Providence
by Resisting the Borg
Summary: Rex is determined to free Circe from Providence. But that's just what Black Knight wants. It's all part of the plan...


**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters of _Generator Rex_. Have fun anyway.**

Caesar Salazar was, to say the least, occupied. He would draw a diagram on his PDA, look over it and frown, then erase it and redraw it. He had been doing this for hours, and would probably be doing it tomorrow. The door slid open, and Miranda walked in.

Miranda was the new assistant that Black Knight had made Caesar to take on. To put it in her words:

"You are too much of an asset to Providence to allow you to go and blow yourself up."

Caesar had had a little bit of trouble taking her seriously at first. Once, he had accidentally called her Igor (of course, there _was_ one Providence agent who was actually named that, but still). He didn't like to act like he cared about her one way or the other these days, except when he was working on something really bulky or needed someone to answer his mail.

"You got the results for your blood test back," Miranda called.

"Uh-huh," Caesar muttered absently.

"pH level is normal, no debilitating diseases—oh, and here's a bit of news. That machine you built actually _did_ flush that explosive out of your bloodstream.

"Of course it did! Didn't you expect it to do that?"

Miranda ran her hand along a lock of hair that she had died—after some consideration—blue on that particular morning. "Considering the last five times that you set my hair on fire, no."

"Oh ye of little faith," Caesar shot back.

"So what are you working on, what's it supposed to do, and where can I hide when it doesn't do it and explodes?" Miranda continued.

"You cribbed that from a TV show!" shouted Caesar.

"So what if I did?" she asked cheerfully.

"Ugh. Get the camera, and stand over there," he commanded. She complied.

"Switch it on."

"I did. It's on right now."

"Oh." Caesar straitened, cleared his throat, and began.

"This is Day One of development of Project Helm. Our purpose in this project is to design and construct a more advanced version of the White Knight armor, and we will start with taking certain safety measures."

"Now that's different," murmured Miranda.

"Oh, be quiet and keep recording."

* * *

Circe didn't do much these days. When you're imprisoned, with a gag that will keep you from using your insanely powerful sonic scream to break out, there's not much to do.

Some days, she just sat up against the back of the wall. Other days, she paced around. Then there were the days that she thought.

She would think about Black Knight. How she didn't know who she was. How she looked a little like her mother, but too young. Then she would take plastic surgery into account. Then she would smack herself in the face.

Then she would think about Rex. How was he getting along? Was he winning his fights? Had he found the Gang yet? Could they break her out.

And if she thought about Rex, she definitely thought about the kiss.

And then she would see someone marching Van Kliess (_Van Kliess!_) past her cell every so often. What about Biowulf? Or Skalamander? Or heck, even I-Bol? She knew they had been captured. What had been done with them?

A door slid open, and she turned, blearily. A pair of pawns (if she could, she would have snickered) stood in front of her.

* * *

Black Knight waiting for them. She was holding a thick, black rod.

"Tie her down," she ordered, indicating a metal table. "And remove the collar."

The soldiers did as commanded.

"Now leave us."

The door closed. Black Knight began to walk around the room.

"It's been a long time since we had our last… chat, hasn't it?"

"If you call two days a long time," Circe shot back. Knight laughed.

"You aren't seriously going to keep pushing me about something I know nothing about, right?"

"That's not for you to decide, Circe. So tell me. Where is the base?"

"I don't know."

Knight jammed the rod into Circe's shoulder. A sudden, agonizing pain filled the teenage EVO.

"Ow. The arm. Classic target." She groaned. "Aren't you more original than that?"

"Yes, of course I am. So, where is Rex?"

"I don't know," Circe responded again.

The same pain, this time on her stomach.

"Of course you know. You're his girlfriend. Weren't you two kissing before you got caught?"

"One kiss," choked Circe, "And it's in all the tabloids. How annoying."

"Where are they."

"I. Don't. Know."

On her neck this time. Her vision was filled with black flecks for a moment. Then they vanished.

"Wish I had… video camera…" Circe gasped. "What cable… would give…"

"I'll give you a video of it once we're done here," Knight assured her. "So, Circe. Where is the base, and I suggest you give me the right answer."

"…Keep telling… no idea…"

Knight ran the rod from the base of Circe's ankle to her shoulder.

"That… good… one… Don't think… done… fore…."

"I'm beginning to believe you don't know, Circe," Knight admonished.

"Taking… long… enough…"

Knight smirked, and leaned close to Circe.

"I'm well aware that you don't know where they are, Circe," she whispered. "Really, I thought that Van Kliess would have taught you better. What's a trap without bait?"

She slid the rod lightly down the side of Circe's face, and enjoyed the pained expression that she made. She then stepped away, and walked to the door.

"You'll be staying there for a little while, Circe," she pointed out. "The room neutralizes your powers, but try to have fun anyway."

There was an explosion down the hall, and Knight cursed. She stomped towards the source of the noise.

Circe coughed. That was something to think about.

What's a trap…

… Without bait?

**As you may guess, this takes place before _Endgame_**


End file.
